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"That awkward moment when your crush catches you stalking him." -Pinterest

***

"I'm home!" I yelled as soon as I got inside my house.

I smelled something burning from the kitchen that mixed with the scent of jasmine flowers sitting on the entry table. My dad must be cooking something. The familiar smells cheered me up considerably.

An antique mirror hung beside the door, and I stared at my reflection for a moment.

I may look different from the rest, but I was beautiful like my mom said. I had started to believe it eventually through counseling. I was happy with my face, I thought, happier now that Noah found it interesting. I wondered if there was a chance he'd show the sketch he'd drawn of me.

Fat chance. He doesn't even want to talk about it.

I removed my shoes, placed them in the shoe rack in the coat closet and stepped into my white indoor slippers. My mom insisted on this practice. She said you never wear your outdoor shoes inside a home as a sign of respect. When my mom spoke, it was the rule of the house.

Our house was a two-story box just like the other houses around our neighborhood. It was old but spacious, having been remodeled into an open style concept when we bought it. A foyer greeted you as you open the door, the stairs leading to the second floor directly situated in front of it. A few steps to the right will reveal the rest of the house: living room, dining room and kitchen.

I had painted these walls with my dad when we moved in, slathering primer first then the ecru paint my mom had chosen. My mom wanted it sparsely decorated. Only the basics, she'd said, and no knick-knacks around the house. So our house looked like the typical minimalist Japanese home. My dad was a piano teacher, so there was a big piano in the corner of the room, and people always commented that it looked like it didn't belong there, but to me it did.

Sometimes, even things that seemed like they don't belong together blended in perfect harmony to create something special.

Like you and Noah?

Oh, stop it. You, subconscious, are making me blush.

You're psychotic. You're talking to yourself, you know.

Exhilarated, I rushed up the steps to my room.

"Ah, ah, ah!" My dad appeared, holding a spatula covered in red sauce and wearing a stained apron around his waist. "What's the rush, young lady?"

"Hi, dad! I have my period!"

Best excuse ever to stop your dad from bothering you.

"Okay."

I paused in the middle of the stairs, leaning over the banister to peer at him. "Mom working the night shift today?"

My mom was a receptionist at the hospital in the city and often worked at night.

"Uh-huh." He was already backing away, horrified at the thought of her daughter's period.

He had two females in the house and he knew from experience to leave us be when we had our monthly visitor. My mom trained him well.

"I'll call you when dinner's ready!" he called out from the kitchen.

"Okay! What's for dinner?"

"Whatever I put on the table!"

I pouted.

I was already dropping my stuff on the floor as soon as I reached my bedroom.

"I know, I know, I have to clean up. I'm not messy, I'm just... this is not chaos, okay? This is organized chaos. I know exactly where everything is. If you move one thing, even one thing, I'd be lost."

I was used to my mom scolding me every time she came into my room, so, in defence, as soon as I entered my room, it was normal for me to talk to myself.

It wasn't that I was messy. My clothes were all folded and hung properly, my bed was made and I vacuumed three times a week, but what irked her was the assortment of colourful brooches, bits and pieces of beads or gemstones, yarn and knickknacks I had for my jewellery craft.

Ever since I was a kid, I was fascinated with making any kind of accessories: headbands, earrings, necklaces, and rings out of old or worn things. I also loved to reupholster and repaint furniture to give them a little bit of quirkiness or character. My fascination grew into love as I got older.

Now I made them for my family and friends, and sometimes I'd get the occasional orders here and there, even earning money from it. My dad often teased me that I could get rich doing it, but my mom had drilled into my head that I should go to college after high school.

When I spotted the piles of books under my window, it reminded me that I had to buy another bookshelf. The one I had now was full. I grabbed a note and quickly wrote buy bookshelf as a reminder, then tacked it onto my board.

Creeping slowly to my window, I slowly pulled back the curtain to look at the house next door.

There it was: a light in the bedroom next door. The bedroom that was situated exactly across from mine. That light wasn't there when we first moved in this house. It wasn't there last month, or last week. It was there now.

I had a strong feeling it was Noah's.

I drew back the curtain with a gasp as a shadow passed by the window.

I was sure it was him. I waited a beat, and then pulled back the curtain an inch.

Noah was sitting on the windowsill, smoking a cigarette, a far away look in his eyes. He probably heard me because when I pulled back the curtain, his eyes moved and zeroed in on mine.

Crap.

***

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